


Stronger than blood.

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: AU. When they go back to Atlanta to find Merle, he's still there, a little dehydrated and pissed off, but with both hands and alive. Daryl is overwhelmed at finding his brother alive that he can't stop from hugging the crap out of Merle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stronger than blood.

The ride in the back of the box truck was the longest and worst ride of his life, and Daryl had been on a fair few shitty rides. From locked in the back of a police cruiser, to sliding across the hot metal of the back of Uncle Jesse’s pick up and hanging on the back of Merle riding bitch on his bike whilst breaking the speed limit and preying not to die. Yeah he’s been on a fair few shitty rides in his life, but this one was by far the worst ride of his life.

He hates these people. They’ve made it clear that he doesn’t mean shit to them and the way they fucking abandoned Merle in Atlanta, well that shows what kind of people they are. He hates the fucking chinaman and his constant whining and worrying and he hates the fucking gangsta wannabe sitting opposite him with bruises and a face of pained regret, but most of all he hates that fucking cop. Things would have been fine if he had never showed up.

These people didn’t know how to handle Merle and it’s their own fault for keep badgering his brother to go with them in the first place. “Well you’re one of the few who can handle a gun.” “Hunting means you know how to be quiet.” “We’d all feel better if you came along as well.”

Gripping his bow a bit tighter he ignores the glance from the bastard opposite him and glares out the front window, watching for the telltale signs of approaching the city. They just didn’t fucking know how to deal with Merle and couldn’t just take their licks and move on like he knew how. You just had to let Merle get it out of his system and then he’d carry on like nothing had happened, he’d get whatever the job they’d been doing was done properly and that would be it.

Of course that hadn’t happened. From what he’d been told Merle was being ‘a danger’ to everyone and started a fight. Well of course Merle had started a fight, he’s fucking Merle! As for being a danger? If these people thought Merle was a danger then they were in for a fucking shock. Fucking pussies couldn’t even killer one walker right, God knew how they’d managed to deal with Atlanta and get out safely.

It pisses him off. Of all the people that had gone to Atlanta that day, Merle was the only one he was sure would be coming back. His brother was one tough son of a bitch and he knew there weren’t a mass of walkers big enough to stop him from coming back. They had a fucking plan after all and Merle wouldn’t fucking leave him on his own for long. It must have been Merle’s idea to fire off the roof, to draw the walkers in and then use the others to slow them down whilst he made his escape. Get back to camp all mournful and meanwhile they’d have less idiots to fight for the supplies and less people to be suspicious of them.

But it didn’t go down that way of course and now here he was, sitting in the back of a shitty van and fucking furious at Merle for going and being an idiot and for himself not persuading his brother to stay at the camp with him. It’s not like he hadn’t fucking asked him to, he hadn’t wanted to be around those people by himself, it’s why he’d gone hunting and stayed away for as long as he could. They knew he could take care of himself and really he didn’t give a shit if he wasn’t there to help them out. Now here he was dependant on those same assholes he hated plus one new asshole cop to lead him to Merle.

Checking the string tension on his bow he keeps his hands busy, not wanting to focus on the possibilities of what they might find. T-Dog had said no walkers could have got there, something about chaining the door locked and using a padlock to make sure. He doesn’t trust them as far as he can throw them, but damn he hopes he ain’t lying about that part.

Daryl doesn’t notice as his thumb wanders up to his mouth out of habit, letting him nibble on his thumb as his mind wanders to keep away from the worst scenario. Merle wouldn’t be dead, his brother was a tough son of a bitch and could handle anything. Heck he’d seen Merle get bottled in a bar fight and knock three guys unconscious before yanking the glass from his side and ordering another shot. Sure he’d spent the night stitching his brother up, but he’d never flinched, not once. It would take more than a few days and nights without food or water to stop Merle.

Fuck they both knew what that was like anyhow and they’d both gone longer than that without sustenance and survived up til now. Yanking loose skin free with his teeth he remembers the pair of them out hunting, stomachs aching from hunger and desperate for anything they could get. The old man had gone on a bender for a few days, fucking one of his girlfriends or something and left them to it, not water, no power and certainly no money. But they’d fucking survived, Merle finally managing to bag a fat bobwhite to keep them satisfied, it had been the best fucking thing he’d ever tasted when it was cooked. Food wasn’t something they couldn’t get by without; Merle would be fine. He knew it.

Water might be a bit more of a worry, but Merle would get by, he knew how to survive on the rain and it had rained the day before pretty fiercely, surely Merle would have found a way to get some of that. Damn he just wanted to get there already, weren’t nothing worse than sitting here waiting and worrying about it all. Least when they got there he’d fucking know for sure.

Just the thought of losing Merle had reduced him to tears and he weren’t fucking ashamed of that fact. Merle was his brother, the only person that had ever given half a damn if he’d lived or died. Sure he’d been without him before, when Merle had been in juvie or jail, or when he’d gone and left to get away from their dad. But he always knew he was out there somewhere and that made all the difference, it gave him the hope of him coming back.

Which he did sometimes. Just showing up unannounced with a shit eating grin and acting as if he had never been gone. That was just how Merle was, unreliable in some ways but then the most reliable person in his life. He may not ever know where Merle was half the time, but he knew when he did show up he’d take his little brother out for a meal, treating him to anything he wanted, he’d ask about things at home and not point out Daryl’s obvious lies. Merle would piss him off when he was around, beating him in fights, calling him a pussy and annoying him so much he’d be begging for him to piss off and leave him alone.

Then he’d leave and Daryl would end up lying awake at night with fresh bruises and wishing he would come home.

That’s just how it was with Merle, he was difficult and dangerous and everything Daryl hated about him just made the things he loved about him even more obvious. Yeah Merle would beat the snot out of him, but he wouldn’t let no one else lay a finger on him if he could help it. Sure Merle would call him a pussy and weak for not getting in trouble like he’d used to, but he’d make sure Daryl knew that he’d never want his brother to end up in jail either. He’d snarl and get right up in Daryl’s face screaming at him when he was high, but after the comedown he’d buy him breakfast and ask if he wanted to go hunting with him soon.

Having Merle as a brother was a lot like flipping a coin every moment and every time it turned up tails you just suffered through it and remembered that the next flip could be a heads.  

Merle had been the only one there when he’d been growing up. His memories of his mother were full of blank stares, stale cigarette smoke and desperate attempts to make her feel better even though he knew it wouldn’t work. Any thoughts of his father were decorated with bruises and injuries, remembering how to duck and go unnoticed and wriggle out of arguments. Thoughts of Merle were none of those things. Well sure he had the good and the bad, but mainly he just remembered Merle helping him in his own Merle way of doing things.

His brother would threaten him not to get into fights whilst teaching him how to put someone in a headlock. Spending days with him watching shitty wrestling shows and mocking the moves only to try them out on each other. Merle would tease him for being a skinny prick and growing like a weed before coming home with a shitload of friend chicken and sitting up with him all night whilst they ate. Merle gave him his first beer, his first cigarette, took him to his first day of school, taught him how to hunt, how to skin, how to shave, how to survive and even stupid things like how to whistle with a blade of grass.

Sure maybe Merle wasn’t perfect, but neither was he and these people didn’t get to decide his brother’s fate just because they didn’t understand either of them. They looked at Merle and saw some drugged up redneck trash, they didn’t see everything he’d ever done to try and make sure his baby brother didn’t turn out that way. Merle was more than just a brother, he was the only family Daryl had ever had and all the family he’d ever need.

Ripping off his nail he spits it across the van, not caring that it lands near T-Dog’s foot and the other man gives him a look of disgust. Let him look. He didn’t give a shit what these people thought of him or Merle, he knew what they were and that was all that mattered. As soon as the cop put on the breaks he was out of the back door, hopping down, prepping his bow and striding towards the city, desperate to have an answer to his question.

The cop tells him to wait, tries to make a plan and be all organised about it all, but he can’t focus right now, not when all that’s running through his head is the question of whether Merle is all right. He snaps, growls and spits some words at the other man, honestly he wants to kill all three of these idiots and have done with it, but the thought of killing an actual person that’s still alive and breathing makes him shiver. So he waits and he does as they ask and tries to keep from pacing and yelling, wanting to worry to just stop and have his answers.

By the time they get to the department store he can’t stop himself and he’s running, shouting for Merle, his voice echoing off the walls and drawing the attention of the few walkers in there. He barely thinks as he shoots one, sneering and moving on quickly, bolting up the stairs when he finds them and not feeling the stitch in his side as he bounces on the balls of his feet at the top of the stairs, waiting for the others to catch up with the bolt cutters. He feels sick with worry and he can’t keep still, he needs to know, he can’t be left not knowing.

When the door is finally open he dives through, almost losing his footing and sliding on the gravel on the roof top, scanning it frantically and panting. He’s out of breath and shaking already, desperate to see Merle, to hear him or get some kind of response. The cop points the way, and he’s already heading that direction, leaving Daryl to jump over some large pipes to get to the other side of the roof. He skids on the gravel this time, losing his footing with the crossbow clattering to the ground as it slips free of his grasp. He doesn’t care and in a second he’s scrabbling over to where his brother is, half sitting, half sprawled and all Merle up against the pipe he’s chained to.

“What took you so long?” Merle coughs, throat dry as a bone and chuckling in the heat, looking awful and unkept.

Daryl doesn’t care to reply, instead he simply clambers into Merle’s lap, throwing his arms around his brother’s neck and burying his head in his shoulder. He doesn’t care that the assholes he hates are still there and probably staring at him as he just clings to Merle like he’s five years old again. Right now all that’s running through his head is that Merle is here and alive and real and fine. Pressing himself closer he can feel Merle’s pulse in his neck and hear his heartbeat and fuck he really is still here and alive, breathing and probably rolling his eyes at his baby brother really acting like a baby. He couldn’t give any less of a shit right now what Merle thinks of him.

“Fucking idiot Merle. Had to come fucking find you ‘cause you’re a dumb fuck who got chained to a roof.” He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he has to sniff back the sobs that come with the tears, not caring that he’s soaking Merle’s neck and probably embarrassing his brother. “Stupid idiot you were gonna leave me again, leave me with these assholes and I wouldn’ta known where you was. Had to come save your dumbass.”

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, still in Merle’s lap and clamped around him as if he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. It’s pathetic and damn he knows he’s never going to live this one down, but he’s alive and Merle’s alive and they’re both here together. That meant a lot, that meant fucking everything, even if Merle was going to probably kick his ass for this later. He stays there, buried in his neck until the sobs become hiccups and he can’t catch his breath properly, it’s only when Merle’s free hand comes up to rub at his back between the shoulder blades that he pulls back a little to actually meet his brother’s eye.

“Quit your crying you fuckin’ pussy and get these cuffs off me. Got more important things to deal with than your tears Princess Darylina.”

Normally he’d be pissed at the stupid nickname, at the insinuation of being a pussy and a girl, but right now Merle is still here to call him those names and that’s everything to him. So he simply punches at his shoulder half heartedly and lets himself fall from Merle’s lap to call over the asshole with the bolt cutters.


End file.
